Deadpan: musings of a Treguard
by Pickle4
Summary: Comedy Script about Treguard and Pickle from Knightmare - is accessible to all, so go on give it a go and tell me what you think! Disclaimer: i do not own knightmare or any of its associations - not even Pickle...yet.


Hi there! My name is Pam, and recently I have been writing Knightmare  
fanfics, but have decided on a wee break from the norm! Here's my first  
comedy script for Knightmare. Enjoy and tell me what you think of it.  
Scene: Treguard the Dungeon Master and Pickle his manservant Elf at  
Dunshelm Castle. Treguard is standing by a window; Pickle is playing a  
medieval version of cluedo on the stone floor.  
TREGUARD: looks wet out.  
PICKLE: Mrs White in the great hall with the candlestick.  
T: I remember as a boy, the summers used to be so long, the sun would shine  
and I would play in its glowing rays all day. These days it only ever  
rains, the sun has left England for good I think.  
P: Lord Mustard in the dungeon with the lance.  
T: Sometimes I miss those days. Everyday I awoke with excitement and  
adventure burning inside, huh, these days I just roll over and go back to  
sleep.  
P: Oh, I don't know, I'm looking in the envelope.  
T: I need to find something to pass the time when the dungeoneers leave, a  
hobby or maybe a worthwhile quest to focus my attentions on, it all gets so  
dull when the children leave - nothing to do, no one to speak to, same  
garbage on the view screen; I mean how many times can they repeat 'A  
Knight's Utopia' in one blooming year?  
P: damn, I should have guessed it was her.  
  
Treguard sighs  
  
T: Pickle you were playing against yourself, how could you possibly not  
win?  
P: hey I don't get to see the cards in the envelope! This game is trickier  
than you think.  
Pickle gathers the board game bits together and shoves them into their box.  
He makes for the kitchen.  
T: don't eat all of the cheese slices.  
P: fancy a piece of apple pie filled with raisins?  
Treguard frowns  
  
T: uh-huh. and how many apples exactly are in your apple pie with raisins?  
P: none, just raisins.  
T: right.  
P: so. fancy a slice, with crème?  
T: yeah go on then, semi-skimmed for me though, on a diet.  
P: diet? Since when?  
T: since I answered the door to Greenpeace and they mistook me for Molly  
the great blue whale.  
P: that's just stupid you don't look like a fish, don't smell like one  
either!  
T: they caught me at a bad time.  
P: oh?  
T: was in my scupa equipment after dragging the moat for dropped goodies.  
P: oh.  
P: and did you find anything?  
T: an issue of 'Nudie Damsels in Distress Get Horny', and an empty packet  
of dragon flavoured crisps.  
T: there was a joke on the back though.  
P: go on  
T: what's long and sticky?  
P: a stick  
T: deadpan yeah.  
P: that's not much of a joke.  
T: not much of a drag either, we don't get many visitors here.  
P: well what do you expect it's so morbid up here.  
T: it's a castle, what do you expect?  
P: just because it's a castle doesn't mean it has to be dark and dismal and  
depressing  
P: and cold  
P: and uninviting  
  
P: and.  
T: interrupts yes Pickle I get the point.  
T: I happen to like it this way.  
P: well then don't expect any visitors.  
  
Treguard muses for a second  
  
T: hmm. maybe I could host a get-together, for all my old acquaintances.  
P: oohh! A party! Much funness!  
T: much cheapness more like, it's not going to be a fancy do - like  
Annabelle's last one.  
P: wow, you actually remember that one? I thought you got so absolutely,  
incredibly...  
T: Yes Pickle! Enough!  
P: I mean you were dancing about on the tabletops wearing a moose head and  
not much else, shouting 'Down with the capitalist gerbils! And let the  
independent vassals of goldfish rise! For those who let the rodents take  
control are sacrificing their god-given right to wear banana peels as  
fashion accessories and go peasant clubbing!' or at least something along  
those lines.  
  
Treguard shudders  
  
T: thank you Pickle for enlightening me. Once again.  
P: .and then I had to explain to the monarch here that you didn't actually  
go peasant clubbing it was how you referred to your charitable deeds. He  
might have believed me if you hadn't stolen that battle axe and acted out  
exactly what you meant - with added 'swoosh' and 'aaahhh' and 'blam' sound  
effects.  
T: yes Pickle, yes Pickle, YES Pickle! I remember!  
P: .and then.  
T: SHUT UP PICKLE. And what about you! We all get a little intoxicated  
sometimes!  
P: oh I don't drink; Elves don't take well to alcohol at all.  
T: yes, well perhaps you remember that time when that, ahem, 'King of the  
Swamp People' fed you that potato juice?  
P: he seemed such a nice person; I didn't want to tell him his drink tasted  
like goblin pee did I?  
T: still you managed to drink the whole bottle didn't you?  
P: well how was I to know? Potato juice sounds so innocent. I'd never even  
heard of Vodka before.  
T: and that was it, you decided to take the horse and carriage for a spin,  
you crashed into ye olde telephone box down the road, ran over Mrs  
Pittlewax's dog, joined the local 'England Against Sandpaper' group and to  
make matters worse the next day a exotic dancer called Snowdrop brought  
your trousers back and told me to thank you for a fantastic night!  
P: I don't like sandpaper, honest.  
Treguard sighs heavily. T: its wet out. 


End file.
